


Resting Stars

by definitionangel



Series: Of Starlight and Clouds [4]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 09:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19971508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitionangel/pseuds/definitionangel
Summary: The liquid burns, and that's not his Taeyong.





	Resting Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This was supposed to go up last week but it didn't because I hurt my wrist really badly and so now it's going up this week to spite my doctor. To all my readers, I still stand by what I said about self care! This is just something I do because I was getting impatient and I have very many other fics to show you, and I have to finish posting this one first.

His mother, Nyx, as the humans call her, had always told him the clouds that dance and play with him now are fleeting, that falling in love with one of the nephelai is hopeless, that they would never do any good for him.

“The clouds are made of mist, dear,” His mother says soothingly, as she strokes his head. She wraps around him now, protecting the glow he holds in his heart, the souls he watches over so they rest peacefully. She’s talking about the nephelai who breaks rules to come up into the home of the night, the part of the sky that the Emperor has no rule over. It’s warm in his mother’s embrace, it feels like the humans describe as the warmth of a blanket and bed. “Even if you do find a Nephelai who holds you dearer in their heart than themselves and their freedom, the Emperor would never allow you two to be together, my kind child.”

Doyoung nods, allowing his mother to bring him up to the garden of souls. Life may be beautiful, but death is peaceful, is kind. Instead of praying for their dead, the living should pray for themselves. Each soul has a own star and they rest in peace, they heal from all the injuries life has given them, it’s his job to heal them, to protect them, and Doyoung is loathe to part with his friends when they say they feel ready to attempt to try again. He admires those who are brave enough. 

He does not like the Emperor, the king of skies, the bringer of life, creator of weather, and once upon a time, his mother’s dearest. He is not biased, he just sees the Emperor as much too vain. Once, he had asked his mother why this man constantly make it so torn and damaged souls returned to the land of the harsh light before they were ready. He was told it was simply because the Emperor wished to stay beautiful. His mother tells him he is too kind.

“You’ve done a wonderful job, my kind child.” So many fall in love with the stars, but are scared of the night. So many say life is a wonderful thing, and yet all it does is tear souls apart who are not strong enough. His mother’s voice is like the call of the nightingale, “I’m not sure why the Emperor is unhappy with you.”

Doyoung sighs. He’s been meeting with Taeyong, the Emperor’s favorite child since the beginning of spring, and it’s nearing the beginning of winter now. Taeyong’s told him that the Emperor wishes to start funnelling as many souls from the stars as quickly as possible. Doyoung has told Taeyong each time he visits, he will not let any more wounded souls go than he has allowed to slip past his fingers already.

“Mother,” He whispers to the night, for she is not truly there with him. He has not seen his mother’s physical form in many centuries, which is already fading from his mind. His voice catches somewhat, he does not want his sole constant comfort to vanish, “Mother I do not wish to burden you any more than I must. You should leave now, before Taeyong comes again. If he catches you, we will not even be able to talk like this anymore.”

The warmth leaves like that, and the stardust running through his veins sighs a little, pulling the souls in the stars to waken, if only slightly. All of these souls are his children, and there are a couple that had been shredded to pieces that he had really grown fond of. He approaches the first and oldest one now. It’s almost completely healed now, and it will only be a few more cycles until it asks to stay or leave.

Doyoung cradles the glowing ball to his chest, warmth flooding him when he holds this soul in his hands. It’s relatively young for a soul, and is swaddled by stardust. He lets words fall from his mouth a song weaving into the air, allowing it’s healing melody to seep into the atmosphere of the garden. It’s his garden of souls, the one he nurtures back to full health and peace, with soft words and painstaking amounts of magic. The melody spins and dances around with the souls, feeding them with warmth and honesty, and reteaching them to be themselves. 

The arms around him this time are solid, have substance to them. There are moist lips pressed to his forehead, actual weight on him when he tries to stand up. Taeyong sits beside him, touching the star with soft fingers. 

“You should sing more often. Even the humans were peaceful tonight.” Taeyong’s normally pale skin is looking the green of the dryads below. In the light of the souls, there are pools of rain droplets against his friend’s face. He seems to carry more weight than normal on his shoulders today, even with his hair still as white as ever and eyes as silver as time. He is still his father’s favorite.

He prods Taeyong slightly. Neither of them speak, but there is an air of understanding around them, there is a soft acceptance of what is to come next. Doyoung puts down Taeil’s star, and pushes back onto the pathway of acceptance. 

He climbs over the protective barrier his magic has created, to keep those sent by the Emperor to steal souls from getting in. It’s kind of like an intensive care unit, and Taeyong is the only one allowed in, because Doyoung trusts him enough to not touch anything unless allowed to.

At the very center, is the orb that contains and maintains his mother’s magic. The one that keeps her from having to deal with annoying day gods, goddesses and nymphs. It’s the one that the Emperor made him create when his mother broke their relationship off, so many millennia ago. His mother protects these souls.

He cusps the tiniest orb in his hand, just small enough to fit on the tip of his finger. He holds it more delicately, in the palm of his hand to keep it warm. This soul is so young, so torn, and so tired he placed it next to his mother, to let the warmth of the night slowly heal the soulet. His breath catches in his throat, his heart beating too quickly, because this soul hadn’t even been fully formed before being sent out. Stardust gathers in his chest.

“Taeyong, this is the soulet you saved.” Doyoung breathes, gesturing for the elder nymph to hold out his hand. “His name is Jisung, and he’s only fifteen human years old.”

Fifteen human years is about a minute in immortal time, nothing near the billions of years that some of them have existed for. It’s about the time that takes for all the pieces of life needed to come together to form a solid soul.

Taeyong cradles the tiny thing in his hand, mist forming around his figure to protect his emotions. He sighs, “Father really is the worst.”

The stars in this hidden part of the soul garden are not very big, the oldest, is only around a century old. A soul named Yuta. It’s been torn apart and burnt before his soul was given a chance to even solidify, like all the rest of the souls in here. Life is very cruel, and vain, indeed.

He can name every single one of the souls in this garden by heart. Underneath each of them lies a portrait of what their human forms once looked like, and what supernatural creature they would become, once their soul heals.

His mother decided that, and her paintings are gorgeous. She has paintings for all those living in the immortal world, but he has never seen them.

Holding Jisung’s soul tonight, Doyoung can almost see something sinister playing behind Taeyong’s face. It’s not Taeyong. This is not Taeyong, it cannot be his Taeyong.

It is not his Taeyong. There is no way this is Taeyong.

His Taeyong would never, would never look even slightly threatening, but no nymph’s magic can be recreated exactly, and this false Taeyong has Taeyong’s magic. Mind control. His mother was right, the Emperor would never allow the two of them to be together, and because he cannot control and hurt Doyoung, he is cruel enough to control and hurt his favorite son.

Vanity will be the downfall of this realm.

He is right about the mind control. He can hear the Emperor cackling through his beloved’s soul, tearing it to pieces, shortening his time as a nymph. The Emperor is life, and life is cruel.

As soon as they leave the safety of his magic, Taeyong turns to him, silver eyes blank, glassy, and unseeing. Doyoung runs a delicate finger over the other nymph’s jawline, tracing the sharp angle of it. He brings two fingers to the part of the neck that indicates life and Taeyong’s heart only pulses every so often. It’s too slow to be healthy.

Taeyong brings a silver liquid to his lips, presses the cup so hard it digs into his flesh. Doyoung does not open his mouth, not yet. He wants to see if he’s right first, wants to know if the Emperor really is cruel enough to tear apart his favorite son for his own gains.

“Drink.” The voice crawls, scuttles like a million bugs have ruined Taeyong’s throat. It’s the Emperor’s voice, and it sounds like he’s won a million of the useless human battles that he enjoys so much. It’s ironic. So ironic.

Still, Doyoung does not allow the liquid to pass his lips. He needs to know why the Emperor is doing this now. It’s eating away at the skin on his lips, getting ready to consume the stardust that makes up his body.

Taeyong’s arm wraps around his waist, so tightly it hurts, so tightly he can feel the magic he normally puts out to heal the souls start to falter. He reaches out to his mother, prodding her magic orb weakly, asking her to not abandon her youngest son now.

He’s dug himself into this hole. He can hear the souls start crying as their pain relief goes away and comes back and he cries with them, shoulders shaking and stardust falls from his eyes, into the liquid.

It becomes more silvery, and oh god. Oh god, the Emperor is asking him to drink his own ruined magic. It’s entwined with something that he recognizes, something that he knows to be the Emperor’s own creation. What it does, he isn’t sure, but he does not like it. It burns. The skin on his lips is blistering.

“For so… Long.” Taeyong rasps in the Emperor’s voice, “Your family has… become such… a hindrance on… my … plans. So … the- ir pre...cious... baby will be… the one to suffer… for it…”

Doyoung still does not drink, hopes for his sister or brother to realize something is off with his magic. The souls of the dead are awakening with his distress, and that will disturb their healing progress. 

He cannot allow that.

“Cheers.” It’s spoken in a whisper, but the baby aurae must be playing, so it carries, loud and clear. Doyoung can tell it’s loud enough to alert his siblings and his mother, because Jisoo sends out a beam of moonlight in attempt to wrangle the potion away from him, and Jinyoung drops his Northern and Southern light beams and they shatter against the barrier between the Emperor’s sky and the Night. The darkness is crying for the first time in a while.

The liquid burns his insides, as if he’s just swallowed the most disgusting mix of fire and acid.

The stardust in his veins is slowing, and he can feel his figure swaying. His lips are becoming cold, but he does not fear falling to earth, even if he should. It’s beautiful, the souls are, and for the first time, Doyoung sees them as the humans do.

Doyoung nearly drops Taeil’s and Johnny’s orbs as he hastens to move them into the portion of the garden that is untouchable until they are fully solid with an aura and ready to go into life again- as magical beings. The part of the garden that his magic barricades.This guarding of souls is not allowed by the Emperor, for the supernatural on earth have a pass to hardships, but Doyoung does not care. These souls will crumble if they are sent out any earlier than their complete healing. It burns him now, to hold these orbs, and from the way his hands feel as if they were turning to stone, feel as if they were going to crumble any minute, Doyoung knows that he won’t be able to move any more orbs.

It’s acting too fast.

The stardust is now rushing through his veins, as if to make up for the time that blood will replace it, and something akin to anger rips through his body for the first time. The Emperor is too vain, and it will only spell trouble for their realm. It will only cause more pain and bloodshed and Doyoung feels his lips tremble and tears pooling at his eyes. But the tears, they are turning to ice.

“Close your eyes Doie,” Taeyong whispers, “Earth is a very long journey from here. But we’ll go together. No matter how many times I have to find your soul, I will do it. Father won’t stop me.”

This is his Taeyong. His Taeyong is back, fiercely protective and stubborn, an almost exact reflection of himself.

Life really is cruel.

The cries and mourns of the souls and his siblings and mother are all being boiled into one large pot of boiling wax, jamming up his ears. He wants to reach out and comfort them, but his hands are stone and his magic is fading. 

“But Taeyong.” The sun is too hot. It feels as if he were being boiled alive. It’s hard to move his lips. “That’s against everything I’ve ever tried to tell your father. Your soul should not have to suffer for mine.”

“I’ve already asked your mother-” The voice begins, but grows distant. The cries of his name fade. The cackling of thunder booms in victory again and again, as terrifying and nerve frying as ever.

There is only silence, and a life begins, with the cry of a child.

Doyoung opens his eyes again.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I answer some questions for you? uwu I know you have almost no context for this piece but this is meant to be here. Again, feel free to complain and know that my next piece probably won't be up for another two weeks because my wrists are really in pain. With this, ~Lia out!


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